


Burn the Lot

by thebookishdark



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon)
Genre: Episode 2x19, Episode Related, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:25:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5001154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebookishdark/pseuds/thebookishdark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ant-man doesn’t seem to remember this but before I joined SHIELD, he and I had a history together. Let’s just say he’s the kind of guy who’s only out for himself—smile to your face and then betray you when you least expect it.” Clint leaves it at that, and even though he knows that Natasha has enough information just from that to figure out the specifics he hopes that she doesn’t.</p>
<p>Major spoilers for Episode 2x19</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>
  <a href="http://versesmall.lofter.com/post/1e09a439_bdc770b"> Translated into Chinese by Verse</a>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn the Lot

“Ant-man doesn’t seem to remember this but before I joined SHIELD, he and I had a history together. Let’s just say he’s the kind of guy who’s only out for himself—smile to your face and then betray you when you least expect it.” Clint leaves it at that, and even though he knows that Natasha has enough information just from that to figure out the specifics he hopes that she doesn’t. She fixes him with a look and he knows she’s figured it out but he’s gotten by on denying more blatant facts. At least she had some good advice, he thinks later when they’re flying off to Monster Island to release Fin Fang Foom (and, if Clint has his way, Scott from his position on the Avengers).

Clint kicks his feet up and leans back, moving a coin from knuckle to knuckle in his hands. Cap’s flying and Scott is telling him something about Pym particles and Cap—the traitor—seems genuinely interested in what he’s saying. He glares at the back of Scott’s head and thinks of all the ways that he could make this test the hardest thing Scott has ever come up against, and (well, maybe revenge isn’t the right word exactly, but) Clint is going to take some sweet long-overdue revenge. He totally deserves it. Clint pockets the coin and closes his eyes for the rest of the ride.

 

◊◊◊

 

_Clint is helping to set up the Big Top when he sees him: just some regular guy, doesn’t look like the type to look for work at a circus but here he is, and surprisingly Ringmaster looks interested. He hardly ever brings in new acts unless he’s sure of their performance—both in and out of the ring. Clint gives him a once-over; he doesn’t look like a performer, he doesn’t have the muscles necessary for any physical tricks and he doesn’t hold himself like a magician. He just looks like a regular guy, cute, but no use to the Circus of Crime. Ringmaster is probably just trying to scam him for information on the town, so Clint goes back to his work. Later, he sees the guy around again, this time talking to Ringmaster and Bruno and taking notes; so definitely not a new act then, maybe a writer for a local newspaper._

_As it turns out, he’s not a writer. He intercepts Clint later in the evening, offers his hand and introduces himself as Scott Lang. Clint only nods and offers “Trickshot” as a reply. Scott makes a face—obviously annoyed at not getting a first name or a handshake—and carries on speaking. Apparently he’s a local engineer doing odd jobs to pay his child support on time, so here he is making some new tech for the circus, and if there’s anything Clint needs for his act then to come find him. Scott leaves immediately after finishing his spiel, stalking off and turning a corner, still pissed at his rude greeting (everyone else had likely at least given him at least the time of day, but Clint isn’t looking to make friends and who knows how long the guy’ll stick around). Clint smirks as Scott backtracks a few seconds later, obviously realizing he had gone the wrong way and ended up at a dead end._

_Clint doesn’t see Scott again until about three days later—with setting up and opening night he hasn’t had much time to sleep, let alone seek a guy out who he’s not even really interested in talking to—when he sees him with a little girl on his shoulders, probably about three years old, entering the Big Top. Clint doesn’t know why he’s surprised that the guy’s smiling while his daughter is talking excitedly about what she might see at the circus, maybe it’s the fact that Clint was convincing himself that the guy isn’t anything special, just a drifter trying to make some money to get an ex-wife off his back about a kid, but here he is with his daughter on his shoulders, smiling like she’s his whole world. She probably is, Clint thinks as they disappear into the crowded tent. Usually the new acts they get don’t have connections and have nothing to lose—it’s sort of important in their line of work that there’s nobody to hold them back—and Scott definitely doesn’t fit that. And now he’s got Clint’s curious, if he’s this devoted to his kid then what is he doing hanging out in the Circus of Crime? Clint shakes his head and forgets about it for now. He ducks under the tent and goes to get ready for his set, it’s showtime._

 

◊◊◊

 

“I trust Hawkeye will be fair in his judgement. See you at the first checkpoint.” Cap walks away and Clint sets his plan in motion. He grabs the map and shoots it into the distance, where it hits high in a tree. A little trek and a climb’ll bring Scott down a peg or two. But Scott releases a pheromone scent and doesn’t even take a single step before the map is back in his hands and an arrow is unceremoniously tossed back at Clint. This isn’t what Clint wanted. He wanted to see Scott sweat and get frustrated at what is obviously busy work. If he could, Clint would make him dig holes on the beach only to fill them back up again. Which, now that he thinks about it, is a pretty good idea; too bad it would take too long and Cap would get suspicious that it took so long and he’d probably get yelled at. Well, maybe not _yelled_ at, but Cap would definitely give him a stern talking-to about teamwork and giving people chances, as if Scott deserved a chance.

Which brings him back to the matter at hand: Scott’s calling him out on why Clint’s never given him a chance. “You’re better with bugs than people, Scott.”

 

◊◊◊

 

_Opening night went off without a hitch. Every single act had the crowd in near-hysterics and Ringmaster was absolutely eating it up. Clint felt a bit bad knowing that at the end of the month they’d be robbing the town and heading out, he always does, but he can’t leave the circus—they’re his family. As the Big Top empties out and everything quiets down for the night, Clint notices that Scott is sticking around, holding his daughter on his hip who’s asleep on his shoulder. His voice is quiet enough to not wake her up and Clint has to move closer to hear what he’s saying. He tries to casually walk past but Ringmaster pulls him over and demands to know why he’s the only one who hasn’t had any of Scott’s input on his act._

_“I don’t need anything fancy. I’m a working act; the marvel’s in the accuracy, not some shiny technology,” Clint shrugs._

_“Perhaps,” Ringmaster continues, “something for a new act. Perhaps you can start an aerial act, shooting arrows like grappling hooks, hmm?” He arches an eyebrow at Clint, heavily implying that there is no choice in the matter._

_“Sure, sounds great,” Clint turns to Scott, “we can work out the details tomorrow, you should get the little one home.” He nods towards Scott’s kid, drooling into his shirt, and Scott looks surprised that he’d be so considerate of his daughter._

_“Yeah,” he smiles fondly down at the top of her head. “Cassie loved the show but I think the excitement tired her out. Her mom’ll be expecting her back anyway.” He shoots a considering look at Clint. “See ya.”_

_The next morning Clint wakes up, does his exercises and cleans himself up, then puts on the Trickshot outfit. He doesn’t like going out without it, especially not to meet up with townies like Scott. If anything goes sour he’d rather just change an outfit and a stage name instead of, y’know, his face._

_He wanders out onto the midway, finding Scott looking at the games and attractions leading up to the big top. He’s squinting at one of the gaffed games, probably trying to figure out exactly how it works. He might not be as much of a sucker as Clint had expected. “Hey,” he calls out, and Scott looks up. “Let’s go to the back yard to talk.” Clint tilts his head toward the trailers that serve as personal rooms and doesn’t even wait for Scott to start following before he’s walking away._

_Scott jogs to catch up and passes Clint before spinning around and getting into his face. “Why do you hate me, Trickshot? I haven’t done anything to you!”_

_Clint assumes his most intimidating posture and voice, the one that always gets rubes to back down from a fight, and pushes right back into Scott’s space. “I don’t hate you, Scott, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re just a forty miler. You’re here for a month to support your daughter, but you’re not part of the circus, you’re not my friend, and when we leave at the end of the month you’re staying here with your daughter and you’ll never see me again, so what’s the point of niceties. I’m not interested in being polite to towners I know won’t make a legitimate beef.”_

_Scott doesn’t move for a second, and Clint pushes past him to continue past the big top. Scott snaps out of it and quickly catches Clint, calling out an angry “hey!” When Clint doesn’t respond, Scott grabs his arm, spinning him around. “Fine. You don’t have to like me. But we are going to be working together for a month so maybe you could make an effort to at least be civil.”_

_Clint’s mouth twitches up at one corner as he pulls his arm out of Scott’s grip. “Come on.”_

_Scott’s still visibly upset but he follows Clint anyway. He has a job to do._

 

◊◊◊

 

“Haven’t got all day, newbie.” Clint jogs up the mountainside with ease. Scott’s labored breathing and struggling footsteps are like music to Clint’s ears; this is more like it. If he can’t even jog up an incline, how is he supposed to be an Avenger? Sure he could get better with time and effort but at this point he wouldn’t even pass SHIELD’s recruitment tests. Kicking Scott off the team’ll be easy.

 

◊◊◊

 

_Two days later find Clint and Scott in the big top early in the morning, testing out an arrow that will allow Clint to grab onto support beams and pull himself up before doing aerobatic tricks, including several falls where he will last-minute shoot another arrow and pull himself to safety. But first, inspecting and testing the mechanisms that Scott has provided. In short—Clint is impressed. The guy really delivers what he says he will. The arrows are well-balanced, the grip mechanism works, and the cable reels in quickly with just the press of a button. Clint’s going to have to take one of these babies apart and figure out to make them himself once they leave town._

_The preliminary on-the-ground-tests completed, Clint decides to go for it. He shoots an arrow to the top support beam, ascends about twenty feet, pulls himself upside down and does the splits. He spares a glance at the ground where Scott looks caught somewhere between shock, horror, and awe. Clint smirks and winks at him before releasing the cable, freefalling ten feet while he grabs and shoots another cable arrow at one of the vertical beams, catching and spinning around the pole until he’s low enough to release and do a rolling land, finishing off by hopping back upright right in front of Scott. Who is speechless. Clint loves his job._

_“They work pretty well. Thanks,” Clint pats Scott on the shoulder, which seems to snap him out of his daze._

_“Wow,” he smirks, “did the famous Trickshot just thank a lowly towner like me? I’m in shock.”_

_“Don’t push it, Lang.” Clint replied, but there wasn’t any heat or real warning behind his words. He spins an arrow in his fingers as he looks up at the support beams. “So. How do you get them down?”_

_“Ah,” Scott follows Clint’s gaze to the cable arrows still hooked into their targets. “Right.”_

 

◊◊◊

 

They’re almost trampled by monsters. Of course they’re almost trampled by monsters.

And Scott gets in the way of _another_ one of Clint’s shots. Typical.

“Move it or lose it, buddy.”

“We’re buddies now?”

 

◊◊◊

 

_They start hanging out, after that, under the guise of working the bugs out of the tech. Everyone sees through it, really, because Scott doesn’t spend that kind of time working with anyone else’s tech. They still pretend to hate each other but everyone sees through that too. They don’t try very hard to convince anyone, anyway._

_Scott goes to all the shows and hangs out after, and Clint even joins him for the daytime shows when he’s not performing. Sometimes he whispers in his ear how certain tricks are done or what to look for to not be fooled. Scott could’ve figured it out anyway, probably, so Clint doesn’t feel bad about breaking the illusions. Sometimes, he even arranges for tricks that they don’t often do to correspond to when he takes Scott to see them._

_(Clint ducks under a small tent off the midway. “Hey Princess, want to do a snake drop next time around?”_

_Princess Python rolls her eyes. “Why? Want to charm your engineer?”_

_“Snake jokes, nice. Will ya?”_

_“Sure. Third show, be there.”_

_“You got it.” Clint grins and ducks back under the tent, Scott is in for a surprise.)_

_They make it to the third show of Princess Python’s Boas, and Clint is grinning from ear to ear. He loves the snake drop. Scott leans over and whispers in Clint’s ear. “What’s got you so excited? You’ve seen Princess’s act a thousand times. I’ve probably seen it twenty times by now, at least; the whole thing is the snakes, isn’t it?”_

_Clint leans in towards Scott’s ear, probably closer than is strictly necessary but he doesn’t want the marks to overhear. “Just wait, and keep an eye on the catwalk.”_

_While everyone is looking down at Princess sitting with her snakes slithering around her, another showman sneaks silently onto the catwalk with a huge rubber boa. Clint leans toward Scott again and starts counting down quietly. When he hits one, the showman drops the boa and it lands in the middle of the crowd, which quickly scatters, some shouting about being eaten by a giant snake._

_Clint literally shakes with repressed laughter, which he lets out once the last mark makes it outside the small tent. Princess Python and the other showman in the rafters even join in, although more quietly. Scott joins in, too, after recovering from a moment of shock. He hadn’t expected Clint to laugh so loudly—right near his ear no less._

_Clint has an arm slung around Scott’s shoulders as he bends in half from laughing so hard. He doesn’t move his arm once he’s able to straighten up and breathe correctly—and he suddenly realizes that he likes Scott; genuinely likes him. He wants to kiss him, actually, and that is something that he can’t do. Sure he’s been showing off for him and flirting and hanging out with the guy but they only have two and a half weeks before they burn the lot and get the hell out of town. Clint suddenly stiffens, removes his arm, and starts backing toward the tent entrance. “I just realized the time and I, uh, have to go check my equipment again, because y’know I’m, uh, starting that new aerial act tonight, and I’d hate to embarrass myself if I don’t have enough arrows, or y’know, literally break my legs or die, so I’m going to, uh, go,” Clint mutters as he ducks out the tent finally and retreats toward the big top. “God,” he mutters under his breath once he’s alone in the small tent where they keep equipment, “I’m so fucked.”_

_He breathes for a second and then starts checking his equipment. He would have had plenty of time to do this later but he might as well work on it now, seeing as he’s hiding out here until his show. Five minutes later, however, he hears the swish of a tent flap and he stiffens. If he’s lucky it’ll just be someone else coming to check on their stuff, but well, he’s never that lucky._

_“What the FUCK was that, Trickshot?”_

_Yeah, luck has never been on his side._

_“What was what, Lang? The snake drop?” He still hasn’t turned around, and it doesn’t sound like Scott’s moved from just inside the entrance._

_“You know what the hell I’m talking about. We’re fine, we’re friends, and then suddenly you’re lying through your teeth? What the fuck happened back there?”_

_“You want to know what the fuck happened?” Clint turns around, stepping toward Scott. “Fine.”_

_“Clint, what—“ Scott cuts off as Clint gets in his face and grabs his shirt, pulling him forward and kissing him. He pulls back after a second and says, lowly, “that’s what happened.”_

_Scott blinks at him before looking between Clint’s eyes and his mouth a couple times. Licking his lip, he whispers, “oh,” before drawing Clint back into another kiss. Clint makes a surprised noise before walking Scott back to a support beam of the tent._

_They don’t move from the beam until a kid they had hired as an unskilled pair of hands walks in and starts. “Uh, Trickshot, Princess Python told me to grab the key to the midway from you—oh uh, nevermind!! I’ll, uh, come back later.”_

_Clint and Scott jump about a foot in the air and separate, both visibly disheveled and embarrassed, even when the kid’s already gone._

_Clint starts laughing, much to Scott’s apparent surprise, and finally manages to get out words, “the key to the midway, god, she was trying to slick us!”_

 

◊◊◊

 

“Look. I’m working hard on being an Avenger, but that doesn’t matter if you won’t give me a chance. What’s your problem with me Barton?”

“You really want to know the truth? Does the Circus of Crime ring a bell?”

 

◊◊◊

 

_Things don’t change much after that, they still hang out, Clint still shows Scott things about the circus and explains some of the slang they use, Clint still shows off when he’s practicing aerobatics—although that does lead to heated make-out sessions more often than not, now—and Scott’s still going to stay in this town when the circus leaves in a week._

_Scott doesn’t even know Clint’s name or face—just Trickshot._

_They’re lying around Clint’s trailer after the circus closed for the night when it comes up._

_“Are you ever going to tell me your name? Or, for that matter, show me your face?”_

_“You want a name? How about Robin Marx.” Clint doesn’t even open his eyes to answer the question._

_“You mean you’re telling me that you, an archer, are named Robin. What, do you steal from the rich and give to the poor, too?”_

_“Something like that,” Clint smirks._

_“Yeah well, forgive me if I don’t believe that’s your real name.”_

_Clint shrugs, “doesn’t matter if you believe it or not, really.”_

_Scott gets up and stretches before looking around the small space. “You have to have some sort of ID around here, right?”_

_“Yeah, sure, I’ve got a reader over in the corner.”_

_Scott finds a driver’s license under a pair of dirty jeans—when does Trickshot even wear jeans?—and looks at it. “Troy Baker?”_

_Clint finally sits up a bit and sends a shit eating grin Scott’s way. “Do I look like a Troy to you?”_

_“You look like a guy who doesn’t want anyone to know who he is.”_

_“Well, you’ve got that right.” Clint lies back down and closes his eyes, “you gonna keep looking through my stuff or are you going to come over here?”_

_Scott sighs and straddles Clint’s hips. “You know, if you don’t tell me your name I’ll make one up and it’ll totally ruin the mood when I moan someone else’s name in bed.”_

_Clint laughs. “You could always just keep calling me Trickshot.”_

_Scott kisses him for a second before pulling back. “Hm. No, I think I like the sound of ‘George’, how does that sound to you?”_

_Clint laughs and rolls them, and then they don’t talk much for the rest of the night._

_The next morning Scott wakes up alone in Clint’s trailer, with a note saying to meet him in the big top for practice whenever he gets up._

_Ten minutes later Scott pushes the tent flap out of his way and leans back on a support beam to watch Clint practice. He was hanging upside down mid-air about to take a shot when he sees Scott standing there. Smiling, he lowers himself to a safe distance above the ground before doing a flip and walking over to Scott. He presses a button hidden in his costume to detonate the used cable arrows, causing a tiny multi-colored explosion designed as a secondary awe factor. Scott really did do a good job on these._

_Scott pushes off of the beam and meets Clint halfway into the tent, the remainders of the pyrotechnics fizzling harmlessly on the well-worn dirt floor. “Good morning.”_

_“Look. Scott. We have to talk.”_

_Scott pauses, smile faltering. That does not sound good. “Okay?”_

_“The Circus packs up in five days.” Clint isn’t even looking at Scott, instead fiddling with an arrow in both his hands._

_“And?”_

_“And I think we should… stop this, whatever this thing is we’re doing, we should be done.”_

_Scott was expecting this but he was hoping it wouldn’t happen for another few days—and maybe for some eye contact, honestly. “Can you at least look at me when you break up with me?”_

_Clint looks up at Scott, but his eyes quickly slide away, and he says nothing. Scott takes a small step forward. “Why now?”_

_Clint sighs and looks around the big top before answering, “I just think it would be better if you weren’t associated with the circus anymore. Towners tend to have… weird and accusatory thoughts about circuses. I don’t want you to be caught up in any of that, especially with Cassie, maybe it’s best if—“_

_“You do NOT get to tell me what is best for me OR my daughter.” Scott steps into Clint’s space, poking his chest for emphasis. Clint doesn’t even have the decency to look him in the eye. “And that reason is bullshit. I bet you just pulled that out of your ass so that I’d, what, agree with you? Leave without finding out the real reason? What do you even take me for?!”_

_Clint just shrugs, and Scott grabs the front of his uniform, fuming. “Fine, if you can’t even trust me with the real reason you’re kicking me out then I’m done.” He pulls Clint forward and kisses him furiously before pushing him back. “One for the road, I guess.”_

_Scott walks out of the big top and Clint doesn’t move for a minute._

_That night he merely goes through the motions of his act. When he scans the crowd he doesn’t see Scott, and there’s nobody waiting for him outside the big top when the crowds thin out. He doesn’t eat with the rest of the showmen. His night is uneventful and long and too quiet._

_(Scott fully expects to walk furiously all the way home, but as he passes a small tent he hears Ringmaster from inside—he usually wouldn’t stop but he’s curious about the hushed, urgent tone of his voice. He ducks around the side of the tent, out of the way, and tries to listen._

_“I think this time around we burn the lot completely—the final two days we are strong on the gaffs, Bruno I want you to take care of any beefs. Make sure to intimidate for contributions after shows. One of you see if you can get Princess to collect extra contributions after her show, maybe an extra show where she sheds down to that skin, huh? We pack up, make sure we’re ready to go, then we hit this bank and this neighborhood. Human Cannonball and Trickshot work it from this end, Princess Python and the Twins from this side, and Bruno and I have the bank. We meet back—“_

_“B.C., I think someone is listening—“ There’s the sound of shuffling feet and Scott doesn’t stick around to find out what would happen if they found him.)_

 

◊◊◊

 

“Circus of Crime?”

“Maybe you remember a certain cable arrow that you blew up _in my face_.”

“What? That was some clown named Trickshot—“

“ _I_ was Trickshot!”

 

◊◊◊

 

_(Scott comes back the next day, he can’t just leave and ignore it until it goes away. He can’t even just go to the police, either, since there’s no evidence that they’ve done anything illegal yet, and he can’t wait until after they do because by then they’ll be long gone. And God, Trickshot’s in on this! Scott’s even angrier at that thought. Ringmaster probably assigned Trickshot to keep Scott distracted and he thought that maybe he’d have some fun with the Townie, press his buttons and get him angry and when that didn’t work—well, there are other ways to keep someone busy._

_He’s walking down the midway, unsure of where he’s going, when Ringmaster calls out for him. Scott stops and looks around before noticing him leaning against one of the games on the midway. Scott wonders if he was just rigging it, as he walks over to stand next to him._

_“Lang, I was wondering if you could build Bruno something to make him even stronger. People are getting bored with what he is able to do now, he needs to be able to rip apart steel—now that’s something people would pay to see!”_

_“Sure, I can probably build it by the time you leave. Anything else?”_

_“No—no, I don’t believe so, although you can always ask the showmen if they need anything specific before you leave.”_

_Scott nods and pushes off of the game counter where he was leaning, but doesn’t get far before Ringmaster speaks up again. “Oh and if you could be here while we pack up, just to go over the equipment and make sure it’s working?”_

_Scott keeps walking but nods and says, “I’ll be there.”)_

_Clint is lounging in his trailer, feeling sorry for himself, when a knock comes from his door._

_“Princess I’m not in the mood, okay? Leave me alone.”_

_“Just open the door, Trickshot.”_

_Clint startles, why was Scott here? “Uh, hold on.” Clint quickly changes into his uniform and tosses the loose sweats he was wearing in the corner before opening the door and leaning on the doorframe—essentially blocking the doorway—seemingly nonchalant. “What do you want, Lang.”_

_“I want you to apologize.”_

_Clint blinks in surprise, he’s not sure what he had expected but not this, “What?”_

_“I want an apology, Trickshot,” Scott spits the name out like a curse._

_“What for?” Clint’s just being stubborn at this point, maybe Scott’ll finally just punch him and be done with it._

_“You think when you leave everyone’ll think I’m a crook because I hung out at a circus? Well it’s too late—people already think that! Why do you think the only work I can get is making tech for you? Why do you think that I can only have my daughter once a month? You think you’re trying to protect me? I chose to be here.”_

_“Scott—“ Clint pauses, unsure of what to say before settling on nothing. Scott’s looking at him expectantly, an eyebrow raised, as he waits for Clint to find something to say. He doesn’t. Scott gets tired of waiting._

_“You can’t kick me out of the circus, Trickshot, I don’t work for you. I work for Ringmaster.”_

_Scott disappears past the trailers and tents, and Clint finally steps inside and closes the door, leaning his forehead against the cool metal._

_Later when Clint finally emerges from his trailer—he does still need to get some work done, after all—he sees Scott talking to Princess Python. Scott doesn’t even look up as they pass within three feet of each other. Fine._

_It’s worse when that night’s show starts. Clint watches from the side and Scott pays attention to everyone’s acts, sometimes taking notes, but he is clearly looking and watching and joining in the applause once an act is over. Once Clint’s in the ring, however, Scott is looking down at his notebook, not paying any attention. He doesn’t even look up when Clint does a longer freefall than usual—the crowd gasps and then cheers once Clint swings to safety, and Scott doesn’t even flinch. Clint’s in a bitter mood for the rest of the night, and it doesn’t help that he sees Scott around talking to everyone—even laughing!!—while ignoring that Clint exists completely. Well fine, he thinks, two can play at that game._

 

◊◊◊

 

“You betrayed us—took the money and ran.”

“I—I had no idea that was you. But you got it all wrong! It wasn’t like that—“

“I don’t wanna hear it right now.”

 

◊◊◊

 

_The last show goes off without a hitch. Everyone cheers wildly at the acts and goes home with nearly-empty pockets. They start the process of tearing everything down and stowing it. Clint’s helping to fold up the big top when he sees Scott talking to Ringmaster. He shouldn’t be here, his job is done, isn’t it? As soon as the tent is folded and stowed, Clint sets out to see where Scott went. Turns out, it’s not that hard to find him—he has a folding table set up with the tech he built for everyone on it._

_Clint stalks up and hisses at him. “What are you doing here?”_

_Scott doesn’t look up from what he’s doing. “Ringmaster wanted me to double check to make sure everything’s working before you leave tonight. Which reminds me—put your arrows in that corner, yeah?”_

_Clint grabs the cable arrows and places them on the table reluctantly. He doesn’t want to get on Ringmaster’s bad side._

_Scott waves his hand at Clint. “Will you move, you’re blocking my light.”_

_“Fine.” Clint goes to find something to do because otherwise he’ll stand here and stare at Scott until he figures him out._

_(Night falls and everything is packed up by the time it hits 2am. Scott gives everyone the all-clear on their tech, it’s in perfect working order. He says his goodbyes with the rest of the local hired hands, everyone except Trickshot sending them off jovially. He walks out through the main gate a little behind the group, waving as he goes, before he disappears in the darkness out of range of the circus’s lights. He ducks out of the road and circles around to the back of the lot, where he sneaks back around to the trailers, being as quiet as possible. If he’s caught there’s no telling what Ringmaster’ll do to him._

_He sneaks around between trailers and games until he can see the small group of showmen gearing up and getting ready to head out. Trickshot’s there this time, so he was probably somewhere close just waiting for Scott to leave. But now’s not the time to be angry. Scott waits for them to leave through the main gate—and then waits another minute just to be sure._

_It’s eerily quiet as he makes his way through the trailers until he finds Ringmaster’s. Pulling out his lockpicks—which thank god he keeps them for ‘emergencies’—he gets to work. A few seconds later the lock clicks and the door swings open with a little creak. Scott hurries inside and begins his search. He starts with the papers on the desk. Nothing. The papers inside the top drawer, under a false bottom, however, now that’s something. Scott stuffs those into his backpack—they look like the plans of which houses they’re going to hit. Perfect._

_Next, the money from the past two days—everything else was probably mostly legal, at least._

_Scott does a quick sweep and—there! A cashbox. A quick lock pick later and, wow, Ringmaster is extremely organized. Which is lucky for Scott, really, because all he has to do is grab the two envelopes labeled for the previous days earning’s, and he’s done. He stuffs them in his pack and slips back out of the trailer._

_Now for more waiting.)_

_Clint slips through houses silently with practiced ease, taking cash, jewelry, and anything expensive and hard to trace. He and Cannonball meet Princess and the Twins in the middle, where they slip back into the night. They meet Ringmaster and Bruno at the front gate and jog down what used to be the midway, which is now just a well-worn path through a field, toward the packed trailers._

_They load up the loot and Clint stands by to keep a watch out for prying eyes or patrolling cops while the others go to man the trucks._

_(Scott rolls out from behind the wheel of a truck. He saw which one they loaded the money into. The engines rumble to life and the field is dimly illuminated with the red of the tail lights. It’s now or never._

_Peeking around to the other truck, Scott notices a familiar outfit. Shit, Trickshot’s keeping guard._

_Scott skips a stone under the truck and Trickshot takes a second to look, and it seems like that’s all he’s getting so Scott goes for it—rushes up and grabs the bag, but he’s caught._

_“Who the hell—“ Scott spins around and there’s an arrow aimed at him, a cable arrow, so not meant to kill but to restrain, good, Scott can work with this. Trickshot seems surprised but he doesn’t break form, “Scott? What—“_

_Scott shuts his eyes and presses a button, the cable arrow exploding in a bright display and Clint’s shocked yelp seemingly loud in the night._

_Scott doesn’t wait around, he just runs, pressing the other detonating buttons and hearing surprised shouts as all the tech he built breaks in a flash of sparks._

_All that’s left to do is drop all this off in a safe place and make an anonymous tip to the authorities.)_

_By the time Clint can see again, Scott’s nowhere to be found and the sound of sirens presses everyone to leave instead of discovering who betrayed them. But Clint knows._

 

◊◊◊

 

“Look, Hawkeye, I didn’t know you were in the Circus of Crime.”

“Doesn’t change the fact you sabotaged us and ran off.”

“Ringmaster told me you were a real circus—I thought I was making tech for your show, not to steal from my town. I gave your stolen money back!”

“Ringmaster lied to you, of _course_ he lied to you.”

After all this time being sure that Scott was in on it, it wouldn’t make sense any other way—Ringmaster hired Scott to help rob the town, probably for a cut—it would make sense if he was really that desperate for money—he had inside information after all, Scott wasn’t happy with whatever percentage he was getting and decided to take it all. And Ringmaster decided not to tell them for some mysterious reason, but Ringmaster doesn’t tell them a lot, so that’s not surprising. Clint thought he had it all figured out, after those months of wondering, simmering in anger.

And then, years later, when Clint had turned himself around and gotten out of the life, here’s a Scott Lang who is suddenly a hero and has no idea who Clint is. Great! And Clint’s expected to work with him as if he’s not waiting for Scott to cut and run again.

After _all these years_ and now he’s learning that Scott was the one who was lied to. Sure.

 

◊◊◊

 

“Scott—he saved us…”

Clint stares at the red barrier, Scott stuck on the other side. No. _No_. This can’t be happening. Scott wasn’t allowed to give him answers and then _sacrifice himself_ to save him and Cap. No.

The rest of the team arrives and Clint has a plan. They’re going to fix this.

(Scott looks around Monster Island, what he assumes is going to be his new home. Well, at least there are plenty of ants.

He dodges out of the way of some of the mindless ones, but a noise at his back catches his attention. The Avengers—they’re, they’re trying to break the dome. A hole opens and he runs towards it.

He’s on the beach and he looks at Clint, shocked. Clint has no reason to save him so why—)

“What? Think we were just gonna leave a team member behind?”

 

◊◊◊

 

They end up discussing dinner plans once they get back. It’s surprisingly easy to fall back into being, well, whatever they were back at the circus.

Cap and Tony walk in and interrupt when they’re trying to decide which pizza place to go to—Scott has awful taste, in Clint’s opinion—and Cap asks for his final evaluation.

Clint plays it up, makes a couple jokes, and Scott gives right back, and it devolves into playful shoves, and it’s fun (well, up until Scott’s head goes through the ceiling and Hulk starts getting involved—okay no, Clint still finds that pretty hilarious, but Scott doesn’t agree).

They think they might be able to make it work, this time around.


End file.
